Iggy
Portrait
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~~~~The Quick Details~~~~
Name: Ignaceous Grimm Alias: 'Iggy' Species: Half-Devil, Cambion Physical Age: Twenties Actual Age: *Deadpan* Height: Varies by Form Weight: *Tail Flick* Gender: Swaps Identity: He/They Build: Athletic/Compact Stance: Leaning Dom, Can Switch Preference: N/A ~~~~The Guidelines~~~~ A set of particular 'possibilities,' giving and receiving applicable. Think of these as likelihoods rather than preferences. Favorites: Tail-fucking, degenerate handholding, fellatio/cunnilingus, Alu', Celestial, Magic, Slow Burn, Multiple Chapters, RP, 'Assistance' Always fun: Teasing. Flirting. Breathplay. Groping. Tail-snuggles. Massages. Anthromorphic. Dub-Con. Bargains. No Promises: Large Groups. Bloodletting. Hardcore BDSM. Feet-play. Non-con Not Likely: Permanent changes. Death. Dismemberment. Bad Ends. Vore. Vampirism. Monogamy. Enslavement. Macro/Micro. PVP. Just No: Toilet behavior. Necrophilia. Underage & presenting. First/Second perspective. Godmode. Tourists. Just-this-once-and-never-again. Faplog. Onehanded typing. Low-effort. ~~~~The Story So Far~~~~ [Have you ever wanted to leave, my child?] "Why would I want to leave, mother?" His voice was a droning, flat tone. There was no enthusiasm behind his words, not a hint of love for the pair of progenitors that stood behind him. His blue eyes looked out over the harsh red planescape from between the smooth, chiseled pillars of blackened volcanic glass and obsidian. He tried to ignore the wind as it sounded like a cacophony of screams; somehow everything here felt wrong- and he couldn't know what 'right' felt like. Somewhere in the depths of his mind, Iggy knew there was another place out there. Some place where the wind was a whitewash of silent static, or the rustle of vibrant flora. The smell of brine flushed into his nostrils, rather than the toxic fumes of brimstone and blood. He had to breathe through his teeth, using those plates like a filter against the corrupted earth and soot that occasionally came with those terrible, howling winds. Iggy turned to face his progenitors; a proud pair of Fiends that grimaced now- knowing that their offspring craved more than what their home could offer. [What's your name, drifter?] His feet were unsteady on the wooden planks, and his lungs were filled with the brine he'd been dreaming about. He was cold; spat from a portal into oceans of shattering stars and oblivion before he could swim to the surface of dark waters. Soaked to the bone and choking on salt; he was dragged from that cruel womb of the sea by a man aboard a ship. Middling in his age, the solitary sailor captain hurried to get the drifter aboard. The voice had asked in Common what his name was, and Iggy nearly replied in his own native tongue. "Ig-- Iggy." |
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| Player: | Effigy |
| Gender (Visually): | Male |
| Race (Visually): | Human |